


The key to your handcuffs unlocked the door to my heart

by JulieVerne



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieVerne/pseuds/JulieVerne
Summary: Shaw and Root take refuge for the night after Shaw's cover is blown.Set after Season 4, episode 9.





	The key to your handcuffs unlocked the door to my heart

Shaw was mad when she woke up, but Root had had the foresight to handcuff her so the damage was minimal. And when Reese returned, Shaw calmed down, knowing he’d made it out alive.

“You can’t keep me here,” she called in a singsong voice to Harold as he checked over the city, looking for Samaritan.

Harold looked over, saw her yank the handcuffs open. Root stood behind her, hand raised, and he shook his head slightly. Shaw had had a short enough day without another nap.

But Shaw was right. She couldn’t stay with him; he wasn’t a trained operative, she could easily overpower him. He couldn’t make her stay. He couldn’t even cuff her, considering how easily she’d just broken through those cuffs.

“I know. I won’t be keeping you here. Ms Groves, will you ask the machine to make accommodations for you both in the shadow zone?”

“Escort mission?” Root asked, intrigued.

“You’ll need to watch her overnight, yes. Just while we make a plan to keep her out of Samaritan’s sight.”

Root looked over at Shaw, smirked.

“Don’t.” Shaw warned, warding off the innuendo she was sure was about to come.

Root just smiled and took Shaw’s hand. Tugged until Shaw stood up.

“She’s booked a place in the shadow zone, and we can get there from here without passing too many cameras. Let’s go. It’s after dark, we should be safe.” Root let go of Shaw's hand, pulled out a baseball cap from a bag on the back of the bench, pushed it onto Shaw’s head. Shaw pulled it off, pushed her ponytail through the back and followed Root. Root reached behind her, took Shaw’s hand and dragged her through the defunct subway station.

\---

“Let go of my hand,” Shaw said, once they were on the street.

“Can’t do that, sweetie. I could cuff you but it would draw too much attention. And I can’t let you loose with Samaritan watching. Just hang tight. If you don't want handcuffs, you'll have to hold my hand.”

“What if I promise not to run off?” Shaw ask, twisting her hand in Root’s surprisingly strong grip.

“Promises, promises. Just deal with it.” Root said teasingly.

“Your hand is sweaty.” Shaw complained, still struggling. “It’s gross.”

Root stopped, turned to Shaw and looked at her. Shaw noticed the hurt in her eyes for a moment, then Root smiled.

“After everything else you’ve dealt with, you can deal with my gross sweaty hand hanging onto you,” she said finally, and tugged Shaw down the street after her again. Shaw knew she shouldn’t have said that. Root’s hand wasn’t sweaty, or gross. It was nice, and soft, and she’d made Root feel bad deliberately, something she tried not to do. But the last thing she wanted was to parade halfway around the city with a weirdly triumphant woman holding her hand like a trophy. She shook her head, stumbled, and Root slowed down, turned to her.

“Now, dinner. We can get some groceries at a store she’s telling me is ahead but I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook. We can order in, but the less people who get eyes on you the better.”

“Get me a steak. Two steaks. Three. And beer.” Root came to a stop outside a store, took two steps back, pulled Shaw around into an alley with her, pressed her against the wall.

“Wait here, Shaw. Cameras in the store.” Root said, releasing Shaw's hand. Other hand falling slowly away from Shaw's ribcage where Root had pinned her to the wall.

“What, figure I won’t run off because you’re buying dinner?” Shaw asked. “You trust me to wait here?” 

“You don't, I drug you.” Root said, close to Shaw’s ear in that threat-promise-flirt voice she used for Shaw.

“I'd like to see you try,” Shaw scoffed.

“Try? I've done it... Twice? Once today already.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “I'll wait here.” Root inclined her head with a smile, turned away. “Porterhouse or T-bone, Root!" Shaw yelled after Root. "Porterhouse or T-bone!"

\---

Root had a bag of groceries in one hand, the other hand again nestled in Shaw’s as they continued on their way to the hotel room in the shadow zone. Root stood slightly in front of Shaw most of the way there, shielding her from view. Kept her hold on Shaw’s hand under the guise of making sure Shaw didn't slip away.

“I told you, I don't need protection.” Shaw said, trying to yank her hand away again as they stepped into the lobby. People smiled at them indulgently, seeing a brave couple out in public.

“This is for my own self-preservation, thank you very much.” In the lift Root turned to face Shaw. Shaw's eyes wouldnt meet Root's, instead watched the floors climb just over Root's shoulder. Root watched Shaw.

“I meant what I said. About being scared. For you.” Root said. Both her hands were full, or she would have brushed that piece of hair out of Shaw’s face.

“I know, Root. I've faced worse. I can take care of myself.” Shaw was a little more patient now, knowing food wasn’t going to be too much further away.

“The machine takes care of us. You only have a problem when she asks me to intervene for her.”

“Or Finch. Or John. I don't mind taking orders, as long as they're not to stand down.”

“It's not just for you. It's for the rest of us. For her too. She can't hide you, but I can. Please. Trust us. Let me hide you.”

Shaw's mouth moved, like she was going to argue. Instead she finally looked up at Root. Nodded.

“But only until we get a better plan.” Shaw stipulated.

“Of course,” Root said, turning as the elevator doors opened. Checked the hallway, making sure she obscured Shaw from anyone who might be looking through any peephole on the floor while walking to the room. Shaw took the groceries so Root could unlock the door.

\---

Shaw flopped on the couch, dumping the groceries on the coffee table in front of the tv. She looked around the room, taking note of the sparse decor, the tattered curtains, the crisp sheets on the bed.

The bed.

“Root. There's only one bed.” Shaw growled. Root turned innocently, took stock of the room herself.

“She booked the room,” Root said with a shrug. “Maybe she's trying to tell us something.”

Shaw sighed, picked up the groceries. Turned on the stove, pulled out the butter.

Root watched her with interest.

“Never learned how to cook,” Root said, leaning back on the kitchen counter, watching carefully. Root tapped her ear, smiled... oddly. “Never saw the point, when you can get any food you want any time of day in this city.”

Root tapped her ear again, whispered 'not now'.

“You'll see when I'm done,” Shaw said, tipping back the last of her first beer as she unwrapped the steaks. “These are a good choice from someone who doesn't cook.”

“I asked for the best.” Root shrugged as if in explanation, looking down at her suddenly empty hand. Wanting to ask if it had really been gross or if Shaw was trying to get to her, but not willing to show Shaw that she had gotten to her. Shaw saw the movement in her perhipery. Touched Root's hand briefly as she handed her a beer, more contact than was required, more contact than she'd usually give. An apology, of sorts. Root looked down at the beer, smiled to herself as she opened it.

Shaw cooked the steaks, each in turn. The first she impaled on her favourite tactical knife, gnawed on it as she cooked the second, sighing in satisfaction. The second she threw on a plate, handed to Root. Root pulled a blunt steak knife from the drawer, rolled her eyes and threw it back before reaching around Shaw to pull her backup tactical from her boot. Left her hand resting on her Shaw’s hip as she flicked it open, left her hand there as she started slicing up her steak, left it there until Shaw finally swatted it away, a full minute later than Root had expected.

“I need new clothes. I hate this dress,” Shaw said, still swiping at where Root’s hand had been.

“Just wait,” Root said chidingly, finally forking a slice of her steak. “Oh. Wow,” Root said appreciatively as she chewed.

“Good, right?” Shaw asked, sounding shyly proud.

“Amazing.” Root agreed. “I can see the point of this.”

“Go sit down. I'm gonna be a while.” Shaw took another bite. Put the third steak on the pan. “Something about being drugged makes me hungry.” Shaw shot a look at Root, who rolled her eyes at Shaw, went to see what channels the tv got. See if she could hack someone’s NetFlix.

\---

There was a knock at the door, and Shaw pushed the last of her steak into her mouth, wiped her knife on her dress. Root looked at her knowingly, gestured for her to stay in the kitchen as she went to the door.

“Sign here please,” a man said, and Root kicked the door shut behind her, a package in her arms.

“Clothes. For both of us. From her.”

“Well happy birthday to me,” Shaw said, pulling out a leather jacket.

“Mine,” said Root. “This one's yours.”

They swapped jackets, looked through the rest. A coat, a pair of pants, shorts, a shirt and a new black dress for Shaw, and the jacket for Root, pyjamas and a new shirt.

“I'd say it was creepy that she bought me underwear but... She knows everything else.” Shaw shook her head. “Nope, still creepy. Right. Dinner's gone. I'm gonna shower,” Shaw said, picking up some shorts and a singlet to sleep in.

“Leave some hot water for me please,” Root called after her. 

\---

Shaw sat on the couch, rubbing at her damp hair with the towel when Root came out, sat next to her in the flannel pyjamas, rubbed her own hair with her own towel.

“I feel so useless. Like an unloaded gun.” Shaw said, leaning back against the couch.

Root nodded. “I understand.” 

“John's out there getting his ass handed to him, and I'm... Sitting on mine.”

“We're planning.” Root said, cajoling.

“We're not. We're sitting here.” Shaw said impatiently.

“We are. The machine and I. She'll work through all the options, come up with a viable solution. Just wait. She knows you hate this.” Root yawned. “I’m going to bed. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Couch is fine.”

“You’re still welcome to join me,” Root said gently, then walked over to the bed, Shaw tensed, waiting for the pickup line, waiting for the flirtation that was usually just under the surface. Waiting for Root to make a move. Instead Root tucked herself under the covers, turned off the bedside lamp and Shaw felt… disappointed.

\---

Root lay awake an hour later, watching the silhouette of Shaw on the couch, still watching some game on the tv. She walked over, sat next to Shaw.

Shaw's feet were up on the table, bare toes wiggling. Her hair was still damp and hung lose around her shoulders. Root drank in the sight of her, tight singlet, short shorts, sent a silent thanks to The Machine.

“We don't know what's coming. You should get some rest,” Root said gently.

“I'm fine. Slept plenty today.”

“Yeah. I'd say I was sorry about that, but I'm not," Root sighed as she gave in.

“If you want the bed, have the bed. I'll sleep here,” Root offered. “I’m sorry she booked a room with one bed. I didn’t ask her to, but I wasn’t unhappy she did.”

“No. Couch is fine. You're too tall." Shaw said, not turning her head away from the Viagra commercial currently displaying on the tv. 

“I didn't know you cared,” Root said, a flicker of flirtation in her tone. But she was muted, her pass not backed up by any touching she could have done with Shaw so close.

“Look. I remember passing out. You could have just let me drop. But you didn't. You could have dragged me out like a sack of potatoes. But you didn't. Appreciate how few bruises I have. Take the bed.” Shaw was unsettled enough by Root’s change of attitude that she felt she should at least share her appreciation.

“You could always join me,” Root said, singsong voice. 

“I'd rather not.” Shaw said bluntly. There she was, Shaw gave an inch and Root took a mile. Shaw thought back to the moving truck, Root holding her for far longer than necessary. Thought back to how warm Root had been pressed against her back, how strong she was for someone so spindly.

“You came close to dying. Hell, with Samaritan active, we’re always close to dying. We have one night, no cameras.” Root said, only an ounce of suggestion in her tone.

“Sounds like coercion.” Shaw said bluntly. She’d heard these sorts of ploys before, we might die tomorrow so we might as well bang each other’s brains out tonight. It never went well for the other person. Being unconscious was almost the same as being asleep. 

Root sighed. “Just tell me why you don't want me, and I'll go back to bed. Leave you alone, like you so obviously want me to."

“It's not that I don't want... Root, the way you looked at me this morning. You're already way too invested in someone who can't love you. I die, you suffer. You die, I feel nothing. I let you... have what you want, you'll suffer. If I don't die, I'll be impossible to live with.”

“Sameen. That's not an answer. Why don't you want me.” Root looked like how Shaw had learned 'sad' looked like. Shaw looked away quickly, steeled her resolve.

“I never said I didn't,” Shaw said slowly. “It's more... I think I shouldn't.”

“To protect me?” Root scoffed. 

Shaw met Root’s eyes, nodded.

“From you?” Root asked, much more gently.

Shaw nodded again.

“Shaw, think for a second. If I was so worried about you when we'd never…”

“It'd be worse if we do,” Shaw cut her off. “You’ll get attached, and I’m expendable.”

“Not to me. And in our line of work, I’d rather have been with you because I would die knowing what it was like to be with you. Or I wouldn't spend the rest of my life wondering what it would have been like if you'd lived, if you'd let me… If you'd let me love you. Even once. I don't want to die not knowing what it's like to be with you. I like you. As you are. I know you think you're broken, that you don't deserve anyone... But you're not broken. This is how you are, and I happen to really like how you are. You're white noise in chaos, Sameen. You're amazing.” Root raised a tentative hand, cupped Shaw's cheek before her hand was skarn away.

“You think that because you made a machine love you, you can make me love you too?” Shaw sounded angry, and Root dropped her hand back into her lap.

“No. I don't need to make you love me. I don't need you to love me. You still don't understand. I need you to let me love you.”

“That's it though. You deserve someone who can love you, not just tolerate you.” Shaw looked into the kitchen like it was holding some kind of answer to a question she'd never asked. She didn't expect Root's angry response.

“Don't tell me what I want. I want you. I've never… never felt this way about any of the people I’ve ever met. Not one. I'm not settling, or doing a penance. You're not a last resort; look at me, I could have anyone I wanted. This is what I want. You are what I want. I don't know how to explain it any better. I don't like people. You know that. But I like you.” Root looked down at her fingernails, wishing she could take Shaw's hand.

“You like Finch. Reese,” Shaw countered.

“I prefer you. It's the first time I've had friends. People that I liked. And you're the first time I've felt this way.” Root's honest tact, instead of her usual flirtatiousness, was getting to Shaw.

Shaw shifted uncomfortably. This was getting to be a burden that she wasn’t sure she could carry. Root continued.

“You're honest. The way you looked at me when you wanted to help John... That had to come from somewhere. You’re… straight. Like binary, On or off, up or down, yes or no. But you don't say no. You brush me off. You give an excuse. And a compliment, usually. If I ever thought you didn't want this, I wouldn't ask it of you. But you never flat out say no. If you did. I'd leave you alone. But you never say no.” Root inched closer to Shaw.

“Say no, and I go back to bed. I leave you alone.” Root moved closer again, turned so she was facing Shaw. “Just say the word, and I go away. You like being alone. So just tell me no, that you don't want me...”

“I can't,” Shaw said finally. 

“I know. Because you do.” Root said smugly.

“No, I mean I can't. You want something from me that I can't give you.”

“Is it that I'm a woman? Never really thought about it myself. Just know what I like, and it's you.” Root rested her hand on Shaw's forearm, feeling the muscles under her hand tense then relax. 

“No, I can't because…” Shaw trailed off, a little ashamed.

“Because?” Root asked patiently, having heard a lot of excuses but not one reason.

“I won't treat you right. Like you need to be treated.” Shaw said finally.

Root leaned in.

“And that's why you're right for me. Because you care about that, even if you think you don't care about me. You care that I'm treated right, even if you don't think you can do it. And that’s why I think you can.”

Root leaned closer, took Shaw's chin in her hand. Tilted Shaw's face toward her own. Lips closed, she brought her mouth to Shaw's, braced for Shaw to push her away. Shaw didn't push her away, so Root pressed closer. Root’s hand slipped down to Shaw's neck, felt her pulse spike beneath her fingertips. Smiled against Shaw’s mouth and pulled away. Opened her mouth as she moved it next to Shaw's ear, whispered.

“I bet this is so... tame for you. Not what you're used to. But your heartbeat... it can't lie to me.”

“Root. I can't. I can't lie to you, but for your sake you need to go back to bed. Now. I'll only hurt you. I won't mean to. But I will. Maybe not today, but soon.” She turned her face to Root’s, trailed her fingers down Root’s cheek. “And I don't want to hurt you. I don't know why. I want to protect you, I want to fight you... but I don't want to hurt you.” She let her fingers linger on Root’s cheek, brought her mouth back to Root’s lips for a moment, open lips catching and pulling away just as suddenly.

“Go to bed. Please Root.” Shaw said, pulling her hands away, settling them in her lap, turning her head back to the tv.

“Ok. I can wait. Your reasoning is bunk, but I can wait until you realise your logic is tragically flawed. But if you really don't want to... I'll leave you alone. I don’t need to resort to coercion. But if you want to join me in the bed, just to sleep, that's fine.” 

And Root was gone, just like that, leaving Shaw wanting. It wasn’t the same wanting she'd felt for anyone before. This was... softer. Warmer. Less... pantsy. More... wanting to let Root trace her fingers over Shaw’s skin the way she so obviously wanted to, rather than wanting to throw her against the wall and rip her shirt off her scrawny-ass bare shoulders. Although that had its own charms. 

“Offer is open.” Root said again, as she pulled the blanket over herself.

\---

Shaw lay down on the couch, tucked her hand under her head, thought carefully. If she joined Root in the bed now, Root wouldn't ask. Wouldn't tease. Would be obviously pleased but wouldn't speak for fear of scaring Shaw away. 

So Shaw stood, followed Root to the bed. 

“You're supposed to be watching me,” Shaw said. “You know, making sure I don't escape. Can't do that if I'm closer to the door and windows than you.” 

“You're right,” Root said, and Shaw could hear her smirk, even in the dark. “How careless of me. So, if you were to join me in the bed…”

“You could keep a much closer eye on me,” Shaw reasoned.

“Very chivalrous of you to suggest such a plan. Truly appreciated.” Shaw finally lifted the blanket. Slid in under the covers. Settled in while Root rolled over onto her side, threw an arm over Shaw.

“So you can't escape,” Root said to justify the cuddling, exposing it as a ruse a moment later when she nestled her head onto Shaw's shoulder. Shaw rolled her eyes, raised her hand to rest on Root’s back.

“This is just as nice,” Root said. “This is... What I think I've been after, all this time.” Her thumb brushed over Shaw's collarbone, then her arm skimmed over Shaw’s chest to rest on Shaw's ribcage, fingers curling softly around Shaw's side. "Just you, letting me be affectionate with you. Trusting me with you. Goodnight, Sameen.”

“Goodnight, Root.” Shaw said, trying to resist the urge to run her hand over Root’s back. 

\---

Shaw woke up with Root splayed across her chest, didn't feel the need to push her off, get out from under her. Sunlight was filtering in weakly through the curtains, caught in Root’s hair. Shaw's hand raised of its own volition, ran itself through Root’s hair, cradled her head where it rested under her chin. 

Root moved, and Shaw withdrew her hand. A few minutes later she pretended to be asleep when Root woke up, knowing Root would have expected Shaw to have pushed Root away from her were she awake. Feigning sleep allowed her to keep her dignity a bit longer. 

Root’s hand slowly came up from where it had been resting on Shaw's waist to brush the hair out of Shaw's face. Root rested her chin on Shaw's chest, hand cupping Shaw's cheek, watched Shaw from up close for a moment.

“Wake up sweetie. We have to get back.” Root shook Shaw gently.

Shaw pretended to wake up, catching Root’s wrist before she could stroke Shaw's face again. 

Root just smiled up at her and in the dim light Shaw felt her breath catch. Tousled, sleepy, Root was gorgeous in the dawn, in bed with her. She'd made the right choice. If she died, Root would have this memory, and if Root died… Shaw would miss her. Miss this moment. 

“Get off me,” Shaw said instead, through gritted teeth.

“Wish you'd have said the last two words the other way around, but sure.” Root pulled away, rolled off of Shaw. Shaw shook her head. The honesty from last night had displaced, been replaced with Root's flirtatiousness once again and it was almost a relief. Root sat on the bed next to Shaw, by her waist, watched her for a moment. 

“What?” Shaw snarked, nervous from being looked at like that.

“You're sweet. Denying yourself something you want for my sake. Or for what you think is for my sake.” 

“We gotta get going.” 

“Yes. I have a new mission. I'll drop you at the subway first though, or Finch won't trust me again. Get dressed.”

“So what, I gotta hide out again? All day in the subway?”

“Bear will be there,” Root said, smiling apologetically. Shaw relented, sat up and stretched. Pretending not to notice the way Root eyed where her shirt rode up a little. She grabbed her new clothes, pulled the shirt on over her singlet. Turned her back to pull off her shorts, could feel Root’s eyes on her.

Shaw wasn't self-conscious. She knew what she looked like, knew that people liked how she looked. Hell, she liked how she looked. But she felt... appreciated, instead of angry when it was Root doing the looking.

\---

Shaw wandered into the kitchen, tried not to think of Root dressing behind her, how she could turn and watch her and Root wouldn't mind. Would smile knowingly, pause to make sure Shaw had a proper eyeful before pulling her shirt on.

Shaw shook her head and dug through the grocery bag, pulled out a pear, bit into it, juice running down her chin.

\---

Root walked slightly in front of Shaw on the way back to the subway, ready to shield Shaw from sight with her taller body if necessary. She didn’t insist on Shaw holding her hand, but after two blocks she didn’t say anything when she felt Shaw’s hand creep into hers.

\---

Back at the subway, Root cuffed a mildly reluctant Shaw to the bench. “Don't tell Finch you didn't have these on the whole time,” Root said warningly. “And thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not trying to escape. For not making me knock you out.”

It struck Shaw then, how easy it would have been to slip out last night, how lax Root had seemed to be when it came to watching her. But she knew Root, knew it wouldn't have been that easy to escape. But she hadn't wanted to. She understood the greater good, even if it grated at her. And some part of her had reveled in the quietness, of the unobtrusive company, of the frank conversation they'd finally had. 

“Bring me some lunch!” She yelled after Root as she left. Finch came out from his room then, blinked at Shaw in surprise.

“Lunch?” Shaw asked. 

“Yes. I have... an errand.” Harold said. “Bear, guard.”

\---

That kid was right. She could feel, like she was listening to a conversation underwater, like the feelings were on an old, overplayed tape. The voices quiet, written over by feedback. But Root.

Root came in clear.

Shaw sighed, yanked her hand free of the cuff, patted the bench next to her. Bear jumped up joyfully and Shaw lay down, nodded off with her best friend napping on knees.

Root was right. They didn't know what was coming. Best to be rested up when it came. 

**Author's Note:**

> I started watching this show two weeks ago.  
> I'm a cripple running a state-wide system that saves lives. I tend to it; the boys call me its mother. To watch a show with a machine not unlike mine... to see another cripple tending to its dangerous child. To see a woman who can command a system with her voice.  
> There's a lot for me to relate to, I guess I'm trying to say.


End file.
